


Sometimes Sorry Isn't Enough

by chochowilliams



Category: Gravitation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Male Slash, Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chochowilliams/pseuds/chochowilliams





	Sometimes Sorry Isn't Enough

**Sometimes Sorry Isn’t Enough**  
 **One-Shot**  
 **Written by:** chochowilliams  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Gravitation or the characters, places or names. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.  
 **Summary:** AU. It was something Shuichi never saw coming: fired from his own band by his own band mates. When the new singer they hire doesn’t work out, they come crawling to Shuichi, begging him to return, but will he? Or will he leave them out to dry?  
 **Warning:** AU, OCs, language, drama, angst, romance, hurt/comfort, M/M  
 **Pairings:** Shuichi/Eiri  
 **Inserts:** “Did Ya”, BOA, _The First Album_ , reference to events that transpired in the manga  
 **A/N:** Comeuppance; it’s the greatest word in the English language. Enjoy as Bad Luck gets theirs.

 

* * *

 

_Guess you lose and it’s too late to try to come back_   
_What part of no don’t you understand? Too bad There_   
_you go down with yesterday’s news in the trashcan I_   
_got no time to be looking back I’m past that And now_   
_you wanna change, it’s too little too late_

- **“Did Ya”, BOA, The First Album**

 

* * *

 

**Tuesday, June 8th - NG Productions Conference Room C - Tokyo**

“So,” a male voice said into the silence, “we’re all in agreement then?”

None of the other three men in the room spoke. Each looked away in shame and guilt. It’s for the best, each was thinking, but as the mantra repeated in their heads over and again, they started to become less convinced.

“Yuta?”

Yuta started at his name. He glanced to the man standing at the head of the table from the slick surface of the mahogany conference table that his fingers were rubbing over convulsively. Those demanding dark eyes bore holes into him. They were making him very uncomfortable. He tore his gaze away and stared down at his hands.

Were they doing the right thing? He wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe they should talk with him first before making a rash decision. They could be misinterpreting this whole thing.

Maybe…

Instead of voicing these doubts, Yuta gave a jerky nod of his head.

Yoh smirked. One down. “Hiro?”

With his jaw set, Hiro glared down at the table as if it had done him wrong.

How had it come to this? Hadn’t the point of this meeting been to discuss their upcoming tour? What was going on? Were they really going to do this? Why? How had this happened? Why was he agreeing?

It was ludicrous. It made no sense!

His head was spinning. His thoughts were a jumbled mess and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He felt sick.

When he opened his mouth, instead of telling Yoh to shove his baseless accusations, all that came out was a sigh and before his mind could process what he was doing, he nodded. Then it was too late.

Relief swept through Yoh. Two down, he thought. He’d actually stared sweating there for a moment. “Suguru?”

Suguru stared across the room at the plague on the wall. From where he was sitting, he couldn’t make out what it was. He would give anything to be figuring out that mystery than sitting here.

What were they doing? Sure, he’d threatened to walk out several times over the years, but he hadn’t actually been serious. Sometimes it was the only way to get the others to step up. This was insane!

Yes, Yoh had valid points, but still, was this necessary? Really? Truly? Instead of voicing his doubts, he too nodded.

Three. It was unanimous. Excellent. A smirk spread across Yoh’s face. He clapped his hands together. This was way too easy. “Then it’s decided. As if this moment, Shuichi Shindou is no longer part of Bad Luck.”

 

* * *

 

**An Hour Later - NG Productions Studio 32**

“Yeah right,” Shuichi laughed. “Very funny. You…” Shuichi pointed to the four other men in the room.

Before him stood Hiroshi Nakano--his best friend, lead guitarist and backup vocalist for Bad Luck, the man who helped him form the band back in middle school.

Besides him was Suguru Fujisaki--music arranger, producer and keyboard and synthesizer player who was added to the band by Tohma Seguchi.

Sitting on the edge of the black leather sofa behind them with his head hanging over hands clasped between his knees was Yuta Hirasawa. Yuta was Bad Luck’s new drummer. They’d never thought about adding one, but a year ago, this homeless, unemployed musician walked in off the street and never left. Somehow, Yuta managed to make his way to the studio Bad Luck was using before security caught up to him. As security was escorting him bodily out of the building, Yuta managed to get Bad Luck to allow him to play for them. It was safe to say that security wasn’t needed afterwards.

Leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his face turned away was Yoh Moriyama. Once part of the back up band for ASK, this twenty-five year old musician played the koto, the bass guitar and was another backup vocalist. Six months ago, they’d decided to look into the possibility of adding a bass player. Out of all those who auditioned, Yoh’d stood out.

Both Yuta and Yoh had since become an integral part of Bad Luck.

“…want me to resign from Back Luck?”

“Yes,” Suguru said. His face, as well as his voice, was empty of emotion.

The smile wilted and died. With it went the laughter and merriment of a joke shared between friends. Instead, it became a joke gone too far.

Shuichi’s chest hurt. It felt as if he were back in middle school in one of his most hated classes of all time: technology (or “wood shop” as some would know it by), but instead of a piece of wood being held in place by a clamp, it was him and the vise was getting tighter and tighter.

Shuichi glanced at his best friend, his bejeweled eyes pleading to be told that this was a cruel joke. “Hiro?”

“I’m sorry, Shu,” the red-haired man whispered to his feet. His grey eyes refused to meet those of his best friend. Those amethyst orbs would be his undoing. I didn’t want this, he thought to the man, but it was too late now for regrets. Nothing he could do would fix this.

For the first time in his life, Shuichi was at a loss for words.

This wasn’t really happening, was it? No, it couldn’t be. They did not just fire him from his own band. Right? It was ludicrous. Therefore, this was a joke. Because the alternative was…

Banishing the burning sting of tears, Shuichi forced forth a chuckle, which rubbed his achy throat raw. “C’mon, guys. This isn’t funny.” His voice came out in a croaked whisper, as if he were losing his voice.

“Sorry Shuichi.”

…too cruel.

Shuichi glanced at Yuta.

Like Hiro, Yuta kept his dark chocolate gaze fixed firmly at his feet.

“But…why?” Shuichi couldn’t seem to speak any louder or make his voice any clearer. It took too much effort and energy that he no longer had.

“Oh, come on,” snapped Yoh angrily as he pushed away from the wall. “You know damn well why!”

Shuichi snapped his head around. He glared at the bassist. His hands curled into fists of fury. Outwardly, he was ready to rumble, but inside, he was dying.

_Why?_

Yoh pushed roughly passed Hiro and Suguru, who barked out angry protests, and strode forward until he and Shuichi were standing toe to toe. With his hands at his waist, Yoh glared right back at the shorter, pink-haired man. “You are nothing but a joke!”

Shuichi’s mind went blank.

“Yoh!” Hiro yelled, outraged at the unnecessary animosity and cruelty.

Being raped by Sourpuss and his gang of Neanderthals hadn’t hurt this much. That was nothing compared to this. A single tear slipped down Shuichi’s cheek.

Yoh spun around to face Hiro. “Don’t even start the high and mighty attitude,” he snapped. “You wanted this just as much as I did!” Yoh glanced at Suguru and Yuta in turn. “You all did!”

Shuichi wasn’t sure when he’d started to shake, but now that he’d noticed it he could not stop. He stumbled backwards as the room spun dizzily around him. He barely noticed when his back hit the wall.

Hiro was furious. No, he had surpassed that. There were no words to describe how he felt. He couldn’t make head or tails out of the surge of emotions raging through him let alone figure out at whom they were directed. Was it Yoh? Himself? Yoh brought it up initially, yes, but he and the others had agreed to it in the end. They’d had the chance to voice their doubts and come up with a different solution. Instead, each one of them had held their tongue. They all played a part in this travesty. They were all guilty.

His hands itched to take hold of Yoh’s throat, but instead of lashing out, he pushed Yoh none too gently away from him. Yoh stumbled backwards before regaining his balance. The alternative was committing an unfortunate act. Not knowing for whom this unfortunate act was unfortunate--him or Yoh--was the catalyst that had Hiro deciding that it was time to go. Hiro stopped long enough to whisper, “I’m sorry,” to his best friend before he stepped out of the studio and vanished down the hall.

Suguru did not consider himself a violent man, but at that moment, he could make no promises.

When he first joined Bad Luck, he remembered thinking of Shuichi as a joke. He’d thought--and still did--that Shuichi had the talent to become as big if not bigger than Ryuichi Sakuma was. Shuichi had what it took to take Bad Luck farther than any Asian band had gone before. Shuichi had what it took to push Bad Luck passed the limits that continued to waylay greats such as Nittle Grasper. If only he were more serious, Suguru remembered thinking. But over the last couple of years, Shuichi has begun to change--mature. He wasn’t the same person he was before and the band began to blossom because of it.

This latest stint had been too much though. He agreed with that much. However, this…

Yoh wasn’t completely at fault. Suguru knew he could have told him to bugger off, but he hadn’t.

Throwing a not so friendly glare Yoh’s way, Suguru stepped passed Shuichi. He stopped long enough to whisper, “I’m sorry,” before he too vanished down the hall.

Yuta stood up from the sofa and spared a quick glare at Yoh before he strode towards the studio door. With one hand on the door and the other curled into a fist he wanted to pummel into Yoh‘s face, he whispered to the shell-shocked singer, “I’m sorry,” before he stepped out into the hall and vanished.

His fellow band mates’ behavior disgusted Yoh. If they were so against firing Shuichi, they should have been more adamant, but their arguments against this course of action had been too easy to shoot down. They’d given up too easily.

No, their problem was not the firing of their precious singer, but in having to do it. There was a long history here after all.

He had absolutely no problem with getting rid of Shuichi.

With a smirk on his face, Yoh strode passed Shuichi to the studio door with a little hop in his step. Dropping his head, he peered at Shuichi out of the corner of his eye and whispered in a hushed tone, “I’m not sorry,” before he waltzed out of the studio.

Staring with blank unseeing eyes at the soundproof and shatterproof glass window that separated the recording booth from the control room, Shuichi slid down the wall. He brought his legs to his chest. As overwhelming as the urge to cry was, the tears just would not come.

_What just happened?_

The worst part was, he had no idea what it was he supposedly did that would make them do this to him.

 

* * *

 

**Fifteen Minutes Later - En Route**

He had no idea where the others were, nor did he care. His fearless leader was most likely still at the studio in a state of shock. Yoh snickered at the image that popped into his head. Served the loser right, he thought with a sneer.

Behind the wheel of his beige Honda, Yoh hummed along with the radio, bopping his head to the beat of “Crazy” by Heart.

He loved it when a plan went into action. He hadn’t felt his happy--this free--since Bad Luck hired him as their bassist. Now that had been a stroke of good luck. On the other hand, maybe luck had nothing to with it as he thought back to the audition. Those he’d been up against had been talentless hacks. It hadn’t exactly been a competition.

At a red light, he muted the volume of the radio and grabbed his cellphone from where it rested within the cup holder. His fingers danced over the keys. Still humming, he tapped the wheel with his free hand, listening to the line ring.

It was still early, he realized with a quick glance at the time as the line continued to ring. Well, he corrected, early for Yutaro at least. That party animal was up all night and asleep all day.

Finally, he was connected to voicemail. “Hey Cousin,” he greeted, “it’s all set. Call me when you get this.”

The light turned green.

Ending the call, Yoh returned his phone, raised the volume of the radio and melted within the early morning traffic.

Life was great, but it could be better.

At the next red light, Yoh once again dialed down the volume of the car radio just as Trance came on and grabbed his phone. He dialed the number he had stored in his phone book for just this occasion.

 

* * *

 

**An Hour Later - Murakami Residence - Shikoku**

The consistent buzzing and flashing light of his cellphone was what finally woke Yutaro Murakami. Grumbling, he very nearly whacked said phone from its perch on the shelf behind his bed as he blindly searched for it in the dark.

His resentment at being woken after a mere three hours of sleep melted as he listened to his cousin’s message.

Propped up against his pillows, Yutaro lowered the phone with a smirk. His head dropped back, knocking it against the headboard as a chuckle worked its way up his throat and into the stillness of his bedroom.

Yoh did it. The bastard actually did it.

He shuffled through the address book for his cousin’s number and then pressed send. “Yoh, you son of bitch,” he greeted the man. “Looks like you won the bet huh?”

 

* * *

 

**Three Hours Later - Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Tokyo**

The phone was ringing.

Eiri leaned back in the executive leather desk chair he’d splurged on last month with an annoyed sigh. His teeth bit into the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips (hey, just because he’d promised the baka he’d quit, did NOT mean he had to give them up completely).

He was tempted to ignore the phone as per usual, but something was telling him to get off his lazy duff and answer it. He was not sure what that something was, but he had learned not to ignore whatever it was, so pushing away from the desk, Eiri stood up and made his way to the kitchen where he‘d left his cellphone (deliberately of course).

It was strange how silent the condominium was. Hadn’t Shuichi returned yet? From what Shuichi told him, Eiri had been under the impression that the meeting Shuichi had been called to that morning was going to be a short one in order to clear up some minor details. In and out. Had he been wrong or had Shuichi stayed to do a little recording--even though they hadn’t been scheduled to record today?

He tried calling out his lover’s name several times in the off chance, no matter how slim, that he just hadn’t heard Shuichi when he came home, even though he knew damn well that the day that happened was the day that hell froze over. If the answering silence was anything to go by, then Shuichi had yet to return home. That in and of itself wasn’t so unusual. It happened more often than not, but this time something did not feel right. There was a persistent nagging in the back of his mind. Something was wrong.

This had better be good, he thought as he picked up his cellphone that was dancing across the slick surface of the counter, only realizing afterwards that he didn’t check caller ID first. “Hello?” He was hoping that it wasn’t Mizuki. He’s been dodging her for the past week.

He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the kitchen doorway and frowned. It was indeed as late as he’d assumed it to be. Shuichi had been gone for a little over four hours now. Usually, if he was going to be gone longer than planned he called. Actually, Shuichi called whether a call was warranted or not.

“Turn on the news,” commanded the female voice in his ear without any preamble.

“Well, hello to do you too, Sister Dear.”

“Just turn on the goddamn TV,” Mika barked.

Sighing, Eiri rolled his eyes. As bossy as ever. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.” If for nothing more than to shut you up, he thought.

He trooped to the living room. A quick search confirmed that the remote was nowhere in sight. He would have to ask Shuichi what he did with it. Probably left it in the bathroom again, he decided. How or why, he really was not interested in learning. He pushed the power button on the television set.

“For those of you just tuning in. Our breaking news this afternoon comes from the entertainment world: we’ve received word that Shuichi Shindou was fired from Bad Luck mere hours ago,” the black-haired woman was saying.

Whatever else she said was lost to Eiri.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - NG Productions Executive Office**

The click clacking that filled the reception area stopped as Aya’s hands stilled.

She blinked. It was a long deliberate movement, as if she were rousing from a deep trance. Lifting her gaze from the document she was typing up, she turned towards the television anchored to the wall in the far corner of the room.

_What?_

“A representative for the axed singer had no comment for us this afternoon,” the news anchor was saying. “There is some speculation about whether this sudden and unexpected decision was due to the rumors that Mr. Shindou was caught-”

Aya did not remember hearing anything about this and everything went through this office.

Tohma Seguchi ran a very tight ship. There had been only one leak since he took over the reigns of what had been a floundering record label about a decade ago and that was when someone--most likely K and thankfully that lunatic was long gone--outed Shuichi Shindou.

All announcements went through Tohma.

She really hoped this was nothing more than unsubstantiated rumors like usual because if what they were saying on the news was true, there was going to be hell to pay. Actually, she had a feeling there would be no matter whether it was true or not. Tohma was not to be left out of the loop--ever; it was something he despised above all else.

Her pulse was racing. Aya pushed away from her desk and stood up. It was only then that she realized that she was trembling and she had no idea why.

She knocked on the door to her boss’s office, entering only when given permission.

“What is it Aya?” Tohma asked from behind his desk.

“Sir, we may have a bit of a problem.”

Tohma cocked an eyebrow at her. “And what would that be?”

“The news just reported that, uhm...that Bad Luck…”

“They what?” Tohma prodded. “What have they done this time?” He wanted to sigh. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Sometimes he wondered if it was worth it to keep them on the pay roll.

“According to the news reports, they fired Shuichi Shindou.”

Tohma blinked his baby blues at his secretary. “What?”

He was certain he’d heard her wrong. She could not have said what he thought he heard her say. It was ludicrous! If she came in here to tell him that his cousin had (once again) walked out on the band, now that was something he would believe because it was something that happened several times a week, but Shuichi no longer a part of Bad Luck? Never.

It was probably nothing more than the press twisting the facts to suit their needs yet again--making a mountain out of a molehill type of thing. The guys have had several very public fights in the recent past that the tabloids have used to their advantage, trying to sell papers with headlines such as “Bad Luck for Bad Luck”.

Tohma was tempted to wave this latest news aside as just more of the same, maybe call in Bad Luck just in case, but just then his personal line started ringing. A familiar number popped onto the caller ID screen. He waved his secretary out with an order to get Bad Luck on the line.

“Yes sir,” Aya said as she left the office, shutting the door behind her and whispering, “This is going to get nasty.”

 

* * *

 

Tohma waited until the door closed firmly behind his secretary before answering the phone.

“Hello Eiri,” he greeted his brother-in-law. “I take it you saw the news?”

“Is it true?” Eiri demanded over the line.

Tohma swallowed a sigh. Was he the only one who did not believe what they were saying on the news? Then he blinked. “Has Mr. Shindou not returned home?”

“No,” was the curt answer.

That did not necessarily change things. Bad Luck’s session could just be running late, but then, if that were the case, then Shuichi would have called Eiri to inform him. “Have you talked to him at all?”

“I tried calling his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

That still did not change anything. It also did not mean that the rumors were true, or so Tohma tried telling himself. He was getting a bad feeling. Could the news actually be true?

When it came to entertainers who have reached a certain level of success, it was difficult to differentiate rumors from reality. Rumors have some basis in reality and from personal experience, Tohma knew that to be true. Whether or not Shuichi Shindou was no longer part of Bad Luck, something had happened to warrant such a rumor to spread lightening fast.

Tohma knew that he was, by far, not the only one who could not imagine Shuichi no longer as a member of Bad Luck--the second highest grossing band in the nation behind Nittle Grasper. The band was Shuichi’s life! Apparently, Shuichi started the band back in middle school; it was just him and a secondhand synthesizer he‘d bought at a yard sale with his allowance. Not long after that, he met Hiro and invited him to join. Firing Shuichi was kin to Joe S’moe walking in off the street and telling Mick Jagger to hit the road.

Tohma could not imagine anything Shuichi could have done that would warrant him being released from Bad Luck.

“I’m not sure,” he reluctantly admitted.

“Fuck,” Eiri swore bitterly. “Did you know about this?”

Tohma did not blame Eiri for the accusation. It was no fault of Eiri’s that his mind would make what it perceived as the most logical conclusion. It did seem like something Tohma would do given Shuichi and his history. “I knew nothing.”

As much (and often) as he and Shuichi have butted heads, he never seriously considered dropping him from the label or the band.

Ryuichi has been suggesting for sometime now that Shuichi should release a solo album. Tohma had readily agreed, but neither of them had wanted it to come about this way.

It was one thing if as a band, they decided to call it quits or take a temporary hiatus, but something like this? It was a little too extreme, especially because it made no sense.

“Fuck!”

“I’m sorry Eiri-kun.”

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough.” Eiri’s tone had a bitter edge.

Tohma nodded. “I will get to the bottom of this,” he assured the writer.

“Make sure you do. Otherwise I will.”

After the conversation with his brother-in-law, Tohma drilled a rhythm on the arm of his chair while the forefinger of his other hand rested silently against his lips.

He buzzed his secretary.

“Sir?” Her quiet voice spoke over the intercom.

“What studio was Bad Luck scheduled to use this morning?”

“None sir,” Aya answered right away. “They booked one of the conference rooms, C I believe, but I’ve had some reports that the recording light for studio 32 was on earlier.”

Thirty-two huh? If he was not mistaken, studio 32 was the very studio where Bad Luck had auditioned.

“Thank you Aya.”

It could be nothing. Singers were always commandeering empty studios. Ryuichi did it all the time whenever he was in town; he would find an empty studio and lay down some tracks or just use the quiet to meditate or even take a nap. But it seemed like too much of a coincidence.

There was only one way to know for sure.

 

* * *

 

**Twenty Minutes Later - NG Productions Studio 32**

Eiri stepped out of the elevator. The door slid shut behind him.

The silence hit him immediately.

He gave the carpeted hallway a quick sweep. Standing halfway down the hall to his left outside one of the numerous closed doors was a lone figure. Eiri strolled towards him.

“Tohma,” Eiri greeted the man stiffly.

“Eiri,” Tohma greeted with a nod.

Eiri eyed the closed door behind Tohma. The red recording light above the door was glowing brilliantly. It was the only one on the floor activated. “He in there?” he asked with a jerk of his chin.

“Yes.” Tohma glanced over his shoulder. It had only been a hunch, but it had panned out. It was a good thing too. In Shuichi’s current state, there was no telling what would have happened to Shuichi if the singer had gone wandering off.

Eiri stepped around Tohma to the closed studio door. His hand closed around the doorknob. He gave it a turn. It was unlocked. With a, “Thanks,” he pushed the door open and vanished within the studio.

Tohma wished them both the best of luck.

His cellphone buzzed against his leg. “Yes Aya?”

“Sir, Bad Luck has arrived.”

Tohma’s grip on his cellphone tightened. “I’ll be right there.” Time to get to work.

 

* * *

 

Eiri let his hazel eyes, as golden as the ring he planned on presenting to his baka, sweep about the studio.

Studio 32 was not as large as studios Bad Luck usually used. It was one of the smaller studios at NG. The only furniture was the black swivel chair at the control board and a black leather sofa along the back wall. The same material that carpeted the hallway covered the floor of the studio.

All the lights were off except for a single one in the recording booth that shone down like a spotlight at the pink-haired figure hunched over the baby grand piano.

Eiri blinked at the instrument and wondered how they had ever managed to get such a large object in there.

The carpet muffled his footsteps as he made his way across the control room and into the recording booth.

An unfamiliar tune met his ears.

He’d nearly forgotten Shuichi played the piano. They did not have one at home and not long after Suguru joined the band, Shuichi’s keyboard broke. Shuichi never bought a new one. Instead, Shuichi used some sort of music program on his computer to put together his songs.

This, though, was proof that Shuichi could do more than just play those silly pop songs of his. Eiri may not have been able to name the song off the top of his head, but whatever Shuichi playing sounded classical--Mozart maybe.

“Hey Baby.”

Obviously startled, Shuichi spun around. The last notes faded as his nimble fingers fell from the ivory keys. Amethyst eyes grew wide and started to glisten as they saw Eiri standing there. The first tear broke loose and traversed down Shuichi’s cheek. Another soon followed in its wake. Shuichi opened his mouth, maybe to ask what Eiri was doing there, but a sob came out instead.

Eiri stepped forward.

Slowly, Shuichi stood from the bench, the legs of which scrapped against the floor as it was pushed away from the piano. Shuichi stepped around the bench and took a tentative step towards Eiri, then another and another. Each subsequent step was more confident than the one before. There was also desperation now. All too soon, Shuichi was running across the studio with tears coursing down his cheeks. He flung himself into Eiri’s waiting arms and clung to the man as if he were a life preserver in the middle of a churning ocean.

It was then that Eiri knew. It wasn’t some silly rumor or a joke gone too far, it was real. This was actually happening. “It’s all right,” he whispered repeatedly as he hugged Shuichi tightly. His throat constricted around his own sobs. Someone was going to pay for this.

 

* * *

 

**Half an Hour Later - NG Productions Executive Offices**

Tohma took his time returning to his office where the remaining members of Bad Luck were waiting for him. Instead of going straight there after receiving the call from his secretary, Tohma went down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee (it was the best in the city) and then decided that since he was there, he might as well have lunch, so he decided on a chicken Caesar wrap and a small antipasto salad. Half an hour had passed by the time he finished lunch and had made his way back upstairs to his office.

“They’re in your office,” Aya said as he entered.

Tohma nodded his thanks. Not the least bit worried about the reception he was likely to receive for his late arrival, he strolled across the reception area and entered into his office with a flourish. “So gentlemen, who would like to start?” he asked as he settled behind his desk.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - NG Productions Studio 32**

Sitting on the cold floor of the recording booth in a shadowed corner, Eiri held a trembling Shuichi within his protective embrace.

Shuichi’s tears had slowed and his sobs had lessened, but he continued to sniffle.

Eiri had never been good at comforting someone, or being comforted for that matter. It was awkward. What was he supposed to say? What could he say? What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to act? React?

Instead of opening his mouth and saying something that could possibly make matters worse, he’d remained silent and let Shuichi cry on his shoulder. He could do that much. Occasionally, he whispered some nonsensical nonsense (“sweet nothings” as Shuichi would call them) interspersed with “I’m sorry” as he rubbed Shuichi’s back (what he hoped was) comfortingly.

He hated to see Shuichi so upset, whether he was the cause or not.

There was only one way to snap his usually hyperactive baka out of this depressive funk.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s not that bad.”

Shuichi tensed within his arms.

“Think of this as--as an extended vacation.”

Scowling, Shuichi untangled himself from Eiri. “ _Vacation_?”

Ignoring the anger, Eiri smiled. He caressed Shuichi’s face. “Yeah,” he continued. “We never did have a proper honeymoon.” _Stupid mini-Brat_ , he thought as Riku’s face popped into his head.

The anger and resentment, the un-Shuichi-like bitterness melted away. Wonder replaced it. “Oh, Eiri,” Shuichi breathed. “Really?”

Eiri shrugged. “Why not?”

With a squeal, Shuichi threw himself at Eiri.

Eiri continued to smile as Shuichi hugged the life out of him. Yes, this was much better than a sulking Shuichi.

 

* * *

 

**Fifteen Minutes Later - NG Productions Executive Offices**

With his elbows on the arms of the chair, Tohma sat reclined behind his desk with his fingers laced and his forefingers steepled against his lips. His brow creased in thought. He allowed the silence to grow.

It was too bad that there was no way for him to drop Bad Luck from the label. The band was still under contract. Unless he could buy them out of their contract, dropping them prematurely without cause would only drag NG Productions through the mud. He would come off as the bad guy.

Keeping his hands folded, he dropped them into his lap. “So,” he spoke up at last to the four men before him.

The bassist Shuichi had hired, Yoh something-or-other, was sitting front and center with the ugliest scowl on his face. This was the instigator. You did not need to be a rocket scientist to figure out this one. Tohma had had a feeling this guy would bring nothing but trouble to Bad Luck when Shuichi first introduced them several months back.

Yoh used to be part of ASK if he was not mistaken, part of the back up band. Tohma remembered him. Yoh used to (and still does) have this attitude. He always wore an expression that made him look as if he just realized he’d stepped in something foul. Tohma hadn’t liked him than and he did not like him now. He had no idea what Shuichi had been thinking when he chose this psychopath to join Bad Luck. There were any number of applicants he could have chosen for the position, some much better (talent as well as personality wise) and most without the attitude and psychopathic tendencies.

Something was telling him Shuichi was regretting his decision now.

As for the others, Tohma was not sure what to think. He used to think better of them. How could they have allowed things to spiral so out of control? How had they allowed Yoh to control them so much that he was able to get them to do something they never would have done otherwise?

It was obvious now that Yoh was the type of person who took charge. He did not like being second best. With this new evidence, it was not much of a surprise that Yoh had been able to highjack the band.

He just wished there was something he could do.

“There is no changing your minds?”

Hiro, Yuta and Suguru had refused to meet his gaze during the entire meeting and nothing changed now, though, they squirmed nervously. Their guilt was like a foul odor.

Yoh, on the other hand, stared him straight in the eye. “No,” he said. There was a challenging gleam in his eye--a confidence.

“Fine.”

Yoh did not bother to suppress a smirk.

“But I still expect the album to be finished for its August release,” Tohma stated with a smirk of his own. This meant, of course, the recording had to be completed by next month. “There will be no extension. If it is not finished, it will be released as is,” he continued, rising his voice over the anticipated outcry.

“What?!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Sir!”

“You can’t do that!”

Tohma held out a hand. “I do not want to hear it! I can and will do as I please. Now,” he continued in a calmer voice, “I expect a plan of action in the morning.” Oh, this was too much fun. Sitting forward, he grabbed the file he had been studying earlier.

“Tohma, you cannot possibly expect us to finish the album in less than three weeks!”

Tohma looked across the desk at his cousin. “I do.”

“But-!”

“It’s just not possible,” Hiro finished.

Tohma merely shrugged. “Should’ve thought of that _before_ you decided to play musical singers a month before the due date.” He shuffled through the paper littering his desktop randomly as what remained of Bad Luck rumbled and filed out of the office.

The last to leave was Yoh who threw a heated glare over his shoulder at Tohma.

Tohma smirked back. Never play a player.

 

* * *

 

**That Night - Press Room, NG Productions**

“Good evening,” Tohma greeted the sea of press before him as he stepped up to the podium. Cameras went off. “Tonight, I am speaking to you as the president and CEO of NG Productions as well as a friend to and the brother-in-law of Shuichi Shindou.” He glanced down at the podium briefly, gathering his thoughts. The only sound in the room was the sound of camera equipment. “Earlier today, Shuichi was let go as lead singer of Bad Luck.”

There was a strobe effect of camera flashes as a murmuring swept over those gathered.

“It was a decision the other members of Bad Luck--Hiroshi Nakano, Suguru Fujisaki, Yuta Hirasawa and Yoh Moriyama--decided on. I had no knowledge of or a part in their decision.”

If he had, it never would have happened. Bad Luck was currently their top act and that in large part was thanks to Shuichi Shindou. Why would he want to break up his biggest moneymaker? It was kin to suicide.

“Unfortunately, I did not become aware of the incident until after it had leaked to the media.”

Was there too much scorn in his voice?

As the founder, president and CEO of the record company, he should have been the first one notified. He never should have found out about the turmoil reeking havoc within a band under his label via his secretary whom had only become aware of the events from the twelve o’clock news. It was like parents finding out from the news crew banging at their door that something terrible happened to their child instead of by the authorities. Preemptive strikes such as the one that happened earlier caused more harm than good. If he was correct in his assumption about Yoh, then it was not that farfetched to consider that Yoh was responsible for the leak. Meaning, of course, that harm was exactly what Yoh had been after.

“What was the reason behind the firing?” one reporter called out.

That was a good question. He could hear all of Japan holding their collective breathes. Even after meeting with the remaining members of Bad Luck, he still had no idea. Tohma had not been able to learn their reasoning. Even if he had, he was not sure he would share it with the Japanese public. However, it did not stop him from wondering what that reason was.

“Creative differences,” he decided on.

It was true enough. They had been drifting apart, creatively speaking, the past couple of albums and that was what he told the gathered media.

“How is Mr. Shindou handling the news?” was another shouted question.

The truth was that Shuichi was as devastated as he would be if he learned of the death of a loved one. “As well as can be expected considering his best friends fired him from his own band.”

“Where is Mr. Shindou?”

A “reporter” that Tohma was quite familiar with asked the question. The man worked for the notorious tabloid magazine Blazing that seemed to have developed a certain fondness for Bad Luck. They were always stirring up trouble.

Tohma narrowed his gaze on the young man. “Vacation,” he answered simply. “I spoke with Eiri earlier-”

“Eiri Yuki?” someone asked.

Tohma fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes,” he confirmed. Of what other Eiri could he possibly be referring? “I spoke with him earlier and he informed me that he plans on taking Shuichi on a well deserved and long overdue vacation. I am not certain where they plan on going or how long they plan on being gone for.” Even if he did know, there was no way he would announce it. “I did not personally speak with Shuichi as of yet, but I want him to know that he will always have a place here at NG no matter what he decides and I wish him the best of luck in all his future endeavors.”

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - Moriyama Residence**

Yoh was not a very happy bassist. He was sitting in the brown leather recliner in the media room of his multi-million dollar penthouse condominium with a beer in one hand and the remote to the 60-plus-inch flat screen LCD HD 3D wifi capable television in the other. His grip on both tightened as he watched the press conference.

Yes, he was happy--ecstatic even--to have the thorn in his side gone.

This monumental event had been years in the making. It may have taken nearly a decade, but finally, he was able to avenge his old friend. That was not to say that these “shocking” turn of events never would have happened because they would have one way or another. There was no doubt about that. He just hurried them up a bit.

In that sense, he was happy, but in another, he was infuriated--pissed.

The damned media were making him out to be the bad guy. If Shuichi wasn’t such a--joke, then this could have been prevented. Why did they insist on ignoring what was right in front of their eyes?

He would show them. He’d show them all! Bad Luck will be bigger and better than ever before. They didn’t need Shuichi Shindou to succeed.

Turning off the television, he chugged the rest of his beer, set both the remote as well as the now crushed can aside and reached for his cellphone. He dialed his cousin’s number. Yutaro answered on the first ring. “How soon can you be in Tokyo?”

 

* * *

 

**A Week Later - Late Afternoon - Boston, Massachusetts**

Shuichi glanced out the window of the limo at the building they’d just pulled up in front of and then turned to eye Eiri just as warily. This hadn’t been what Shuichi expected when Eiri said they were going to go on vacation.

“Where are we?”

“Boston.”

Shuichi rolled his eyes. He knew that much at least. The whole of Massachusetts had countless historic sites. It’d been on his Bucket List for years, but as excited as he was to be here, it did not explain where exactly they were at the present moment and why.

As if he‘d read Shuichi‘s thoughts, Eiri said, “It’s city hall.”

“And we’re here…why?”

Smirking, Eiri took Shuichi’s left hand within his own and lifted it to his lips. He brushed the back of Shuichi’s hand with his lips. Then he blew a gentle puff of air along the same patch of skin.

Shuichi shivered in reaction.

Eiri’s golden gaze met Shuichi’s vividly amethyst eyes. His thumb found the gold band encircling Shuichi’s ring finger. He rotated it back and forth. “This is why we’re here.”

Shuichi’s breathing hitched. His eyes went wide. “Eiri,” he breathed. “You mean…?”

Eiri nodded.

“This is why you had me get all gussied up?”

Eiri snorted. “It wasn’t to go sightseeing.” What was the point in wearing a brand-new Armani suit and Gucci shoes if you were going to follow Paul Revere’s famous ride?

Shuichi squealed and flung himself across the seat and into Eiri’s arms. “Oh, Eiri,” he whispered. “I love you so much!”

Eiri returned the hug. “Me too,” he whispered.

“But…How?” Shuichi asked, pulling back enough so that he could look into Eiri’s face without going cross-eyed.

Eiri shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“Like Seguchi?” Shuichi suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Instead of answering, Eiri kissed Shuichi. “C’mon,” he chuckled. “We have an appointment to keep.”

Shuichi didn’t need to be told twice.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - NG Productions Executive Offices - Tokyo, Japan**

Unfortunately, Tohma had been right.

Ryuichi had not taken the news of Shuichi demise from Bad Luck well. He’d ranted, raved, and demanded that Tohma do something before Kumagoro took matters into his own hands. Unfortunately, as much as Tohma would love to comply with those demands, there was absolutely nothing he could do.

In retaliation, Ryuichi--who claimed it’d been Kuma’s idea--decided he was going to pull out of the duet he and Shuichi had planned on doing together for Bad Luck’s new album. Instead, Ryuichi agreed to voice the lead character in a new paranormal/supernatural anime; it was described as being a cross between G Dray Man, Spiral and Gaunt. When he was offered the role originally, Ryuichi had turned it down. The look on Yoh’s face when Tohma was “forced” to break the news had been priceless.

Tohma wasn’t too broken up about it. He had enough on his plate to worry about the feelings of Yoh Moriyama.

Well, technically, Trance wasn’t exactly new as in new to the scene. They were a legendary band that some compared to Led Zeppelin or the Rolling Stones. He hadn’t even been aware Trance was looking into leaving their label--his arch nemesis Sony, which, ironically enough, was the label Nittle Grasper had originally been signed with--until he received a phone call from the band’s agent the day after Eiri and Shuichi left for America.

They’d been no need to think about whether or not he would sign a band that hadn’t released an album in over twenty years let alone negotiate a contract. What else could someone in his position have said other than, “Hell yes”?

He’d readily given the guys everything they wanted and he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant having such legends on his label. This gave Tohma an excuse to rip into Sony--not that he’d needed one in the past. Now, not only did he have the band, but the rights to the band’s music; the music being worth Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck combined ten times over was an added bonus. Of course, it allowed him to expand the label from the pop/rock they were primarily known for as well.

If not for the little hiccup with Bad Luck, life would be great. Maybe if they were all lucky, Bad Luck would fail miserably without Shuichi at the head of the ship and as a result, would end up firing what’s-his-name Yusuke…Yuichi…Yu-something-or-other. He wondered if Shuichi would return as the lead singer of Bad Luck if they asked. Tohma sure as hell wouldn’t, but it was an interesting dilemma to contemplate.

 

* * *

 

**A Week Later - Early Morning - Uncharted Island - Caribbean**

Unsurprisingly, Tohma Seguchi owned the island on which Eiri “Yuki” Uesugi and his new husband Shuichi Shindou were vacationing. It wasn’t some dinky pile of sand either, but a good-sized plot of land. A lush jungle, tropical fruit, exotic and unique animals, white sandy beaches and waters bluer than the Mediterranean. The only structures on the island was a modest house-

_“You call this modest?”_ were the first words out of Shuichi’s mouth when they arrived.

_“No,”_ Eiri had answered, _“that’s what Tohma calls it. I call it a multi-million dollar estate that could hold our condo ten times over.”_

-right on the beach and a boathouse the size of their condominium back home with a dock able to anchor a luxury yacht, which was the only method of reaching said island.

It was paradise. How Tohma was able to keep such an Eden to himself was something the newlyweds would never be able to figure out. It was an unsolved mystery fated to remain as such.

When Eiri woke that morning a week after they were married, it was to an empty bed.

Knowing exactly where to find his husband, he had to pause a moment to absorb that, Eiri rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then peeled apart the netting that was draped around the queen-sized bed. Grabbing the white slacks off the floor from where they’d been tossed the night before, he pulled them on then combed his fingers through his wild blond locks to tame them. A hand over his jaw told him that he needed to shave, but that could wait. Stretching around a yawn, he worked out the kinks then made his way into the en suite bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Eiri stepped out of the house, he spotted Shuichi. The singer was lounging down on the beach.

The sun glinted blue against the deep black color of Shuichi’s hair; the change still took Eiri by surprise even though it‘s been a week.

Following the wooden plank staircase down to the beach, Eiri cursed as the brilliant rays of the dawning sun nearly struck him blind. He wished he’d remembered his sunglasses. Unfortunately, they were at home on the dresser.

“Hey,” he greeted Shuichi as he stepped up behind him. He noticed with some disappointment that Shuichi was wearing swimming trunks and a tank top. They were alone on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere; clothes were strictly optional. He would have to remind his lithe husband of that. At least both were skimpy.

At the sound of Eiri’s voice, Shuichi tipped his head back as much as the chair would allow and flashed him a grin almost as bright as that damnedable sun. “Morning!”

Eiri grunted. Just because the sun was up did not mean it was morning. He kissed Shuichi--the “Spiderman Kiss” as Shuichi called it when one of them was upside down for the kiss. “What time you get up?” he asked pulling away, much to Shuichi’s disappointment. Eiri would never admit it aloud- unless he was lost in the midst of arousal, but then he’d just deny it when he was more coherent--but he found Shuichi’s pout rather cute.

“Just got up,” Shuichi replied with that thousand-kilowatt smile.

Eiri cocked an eyebrow. How Shuichi could be so chipper so early in the morning was beyond him.

At least Shuichi wasn’t moping around anymore. A sulking, depressed Shuichi was worse than a cheerful Shuichi.

Eiri rounded the chair and nudged Shuichi over before climbing in with him.

Shuichi happily obliged, then wrapped himself around Eiri and sighed contently.

Eiri kissed the top of Shuichi’s head. “Love you,” he murmured, tightened his hold on the smaller man. The sun glinted off the gold band on his left ring finger. It was identical to the two bands Shuichi sported.

Shuichi’s grin widened. “I love you too,” he whispered back.

Cuddling, the newlyweds lounged there on the beach without fear of fans or paparazzi or anything else. They were able to relax and do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted for as long as they wanted and that was exactly what they planned on doing.

The problems left behind in Tokyo weren’t even background noise.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - NG Productions Studio 15 - Tokyo**

Out of the five of the men currently occupying the control room, only one was enjoying himself.

Their producer looked like he was in pain.

_He’s destroying my song!_

Hiro was wishing K were still their manager. The psychotic American never would have allowed this travesty to occur. K would have had Yoh for breakfast…or as a practice dummy. Putting up with one of K’s infamous rampages through Tokyo as if he were Godzilla would be better than listening to the crap that Yoh and Yutaro were passing off as music.

_What had they done?_

Physically, Suguru was sitting on the sofa besides Hiro. Mentally, he was elsewhere. He was rummaging around in the music catalogue in his mind, trying to put together some new music. Whether they were for future Bad Luck projects was still to be seen. He was thinking not.

_Look out Daisuke Asakura. Suguru Fujisaki is here._

Yuta was sitting at the opposite end of the sofa from Hiro. Slumped over the arm with his chin resting in his hand, he had his left ankle crossed over the right knee. His foot was jumping to the upbeat Eurodance tune, but his teeth were grinding and his ears felt as if they were bleeding as they listened against their will to the screeching that Yutaro seemed to believe was “singing”.

_This used to be my favorite song._

Unlike his band mates who wished they were anywhere but here, Yoh was thrilled with the progress they were making. Breakaway was coming along fantastically. This was definitely going to be Bad Luck’s best album to date. If the public didn’t eat this up, he’d quit. He was that certain.

Standing behind their producer bopping his head to the beat, Yoh was conducting his cousin--who was in the recording booth laying the vocals to “Terminate”--through a particularly difficult section. He did not need to be reminded that it had taken Shuichi two takes to get it. When Yutaro nailed the line, after nearly a dozen tries, Yoh whooped.

“Perfect, Yu,” he congratulated his cousin.

Yutaro gave him a thumbs-up in return.

When he first heard his cousin sing one of Shuichi’s songs that they had no choice but to use thanks to Tohma Seguchi’s ridiculous deadline, Yoh’d had to admit to a little apprehension. Yes, Yutaro’s style was drastically different from what the fans were used to from Bad Luck, but sometimes you had to mix things up to stay afloat.

This would work, but even if it didn’t, it wasn’t as if it was any skin off his nose. Either way, he had accomplished what he’d set out to do and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

**Seven Months Later - Morning, Thursday, January 20 - Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Tokyo**

It was a whirlwind honeymoon.

Eiri and Shuichi spent a month on that little island in the Caribbean. They could have stayed there forever. The peace, the quiet, and the tranquility had been welcoming and soothing, but Eiri had planned to show his new husband more than just some deserted island in the middle of the ocean.

They visited Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, Mount Rushmore, Salem, and Gettysburg, went camping in Yellowstone and saw Old Faithful, went to Ground Zero to pay their respects and stayed to watch the Yankees beat the Mets.

They went skiing in Vancouver, went to Toronto to watch the Buffalo Sabers mutilate the Maple Leafs, and then stayed to watched Rock of Ages and The Lion King.

They traveled throughout Latin and South America and visited Machu Picchu and Teotihuacán and everything in between.

They went to England to see Stonehenge.

In France, they visited wineries, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe and the Avenue des Champes Elysées.

They traveled through Spain, Italy, Germany, Egypt, Belgium, Denmark, and countries that Shuichi had never heard of before but fell in love with.

It was perfect. Shuichi had never been happier.

Inevitably, the world tour wound down and one day Eiri announced that it was time to return home.

It was after midnight when their return flight landed at Narita International Airport.

Both were so exhausted by the time they arrived home that they did not have the strength or the energy to do much more than stumble into their bedroom before they fell face first into bed and drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon while Eiri was out running errands, Shuichi--who’d decided he wasn’t up to facing the public as of yet--wandered through the house. He thought briefly of unpacking and starting on the six months worth of laundry, maybe separating the souvenirs, but decided in the next instant that he didn’t want to.

Shuichi ran a hand along the slick surface of the mahogany dining table as he strolled aimlessly. The pile of mail--nearly as large as the laundry--caught his attention. On top was a colorful flier. Had a new restaurant opened while they were gone? Curious, he grabbed the flier. At the bottom corner of the flier, there was the silhouette of a female dancer. In the middle were disembodied hands spinning a record on a turntable. The flier turned out to be not for a restaurant but for a bar called The Phoenix Nest that featured live bands on Friday and Saturday nights and a DJ on Wednesday nights. They also had karaoke every evening during happy hour from three to five.

Now there was an idea.

Raising his head from the flier, Shuichi studied his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall behind the table.

He couldn’t avoid the inevitable forever. Eventually, he would have to face the public.

Though, with his reemergence into society, the interrogation would promptly begin. He would never be ready for the barge of questions he did not know and didn’t want to know the answers to.

_Why were you let go from you own band?_

_How do you feel about Bad Luck using your songs and rerecording the songs you struggled for half a year to perfect?_

_How do you feel about hearing your poignant confessions of the heart, songs about your fears and nightmares, of the temptations you faced, of the mistakes you made being sung by the man who replaced you?_

How did he feel? It felt as if someone had ripped his still beating heart out of his chest and had squeezed it into pulp as if it were an overtly ripe tomato right before his very eyes.

Despite the bitterness that continued to linger and fester and the fright about the unknown the future now held for him, this was something Shuichi could not put off forever.

This bar seemed like the perfect stepping-stone. Baby steps. Wasn’t that what Eiri has been telling him all along?

Besides, maybe this first voyage into society wouldn’t be so bad. It was amazing how unobtrusive one could be when he no longer sported pink hair that could be spotted from the International Space Station and wasn’t being forced to dress like a transvestite prostitute.

He could do this…

…Maybe…

…Hopefully.

Now all he had to do was talk Eiri into going out with him.

 

* * *

 

**That Evening - The Phoenix Nest - Tokyo**

Wataru Katsurayama stopped dead as he entered the bar. The bar was jammed pack as it usually was during happy hour. He was certain the capacity limit had been exceeded several times over. But that wasn’t what had him so entranced. It was the man on the small stage in the back singing karaoke.

The man was on the short side with black hair that had been pulled back and dark wraparound sunglasses despite being indoors. Blue jeans and a black leather jacket completed the outfit.

Wataru picked his way through the throng of customers and employees who were all as equally enthralled with this man as he was. Who can blame them? The guy was good! There weren’t many who could do justice to a Trance song. Many tried. Few succeeded. This man, whoever he was, was one of those few.

The Trance song the guy had chosen was the first single off Trance’s final album entitled, “Fool”. It was written by their drummer Akira after a particularly nasty breakup with his longtime girlfriend. Their follow up single, “Save Me”, was the final song they ever released. Several months later, their lead singer, Satoru, was found in his bed by his housekeeper dead from an apparent drug overdose.

It’s been twenty-five years since then.

And this man!

He had to speak to this guy, but before he could weave halfway through the crowded floor, the song ended to enthusiastic applause. The singer, who--now that Wataru was able to get a closer glimpse of him--could not have been more than eighteen, was given a standing ovation. In the process, the kid was swallowed from view.

Swearing, Wataru shoved his way through the crowd, tossing hasty apologies over his shoulder for the toes he stepped on, but by the time he made it to the stage, the kid was gone. He turned in a full circle, stretching his neck over the crowd, trying to pick him out of the crowd. The kid couldn’t have gone too far. The mission was doomed for failure from the very beginning though. Everyone was stacked in like sardines and nearly everyone in the bar had black hair, half of those wearing black jackets.

“Damn,” Wataru muttered.

An older gentleman with grey streaks in his short-cropped brown hair and carrying a clipboard was approaching the stage. The name on the tag pinned to the guy’s chest read, “Hiroyuki, Manager”.

Wataru approached him. “Excuse me.”

With a smile on his face, Hiroyuki turned towards him. “Yes sir? How can I help you?”

“I was looking for the kid that was just singing. You don’t happen to know where I can find him.”

“Well, he was right there,” Hiroyuki said pointing to a now vacant two-seater table in the front.

Wataru cursed.

“He was here with a blond fellow.”

“Blond?”

Hiroyuki nodded.

“Are they regulars?”

“No. They said it was their first time. Said something about having been out of the country.”

Wataru cursed again. He turned away, disappointed, but then whipped back around when a thought hit him hard and fast. “His name! Do you-?”

Hiroyuki was already glancing down at the clipboard and flipping through the pages. “He simply gave his name as ‘Uesugi’.”

With that, Wataru felt his hopes burst. “Thanks.”

Hiroyuki inclined his head and stepped up onto the stage where he announced the next entrant.

Wataru slowly meandered his way back through the throng. “’Uesugi’, huh?” He cursed again. This was going to be like finding a needle in a stack of needles.

 

* * *

 

**The Next Afternoon - NG Productions - Tokyo**

It was him! It was definitely the kid from The Phoenix Nest. There was no doubt about it. It was the same black hair, same wraparound shades, same hooded black leather jacket, blue jeans, black boots and even the same song. It was him. It had to be.

…Either that or Wataru was dreaming and the latter would just suck, especially after missing his chance to speak with the kid last night.

“Hey! Hey, you! Excuse me!” Wataru called out to the younger man who was walking away from him down the hall. “Hey!”

The kid slowed to a halt and glanced around to see whom it was that was calling him. Finally spotting Wataru jogging towards him, the kid slipped off his sunglasses. Purple eyes studied him as he approached. “Yes?”

“Were you at The Phoenix Nest yesterday?” he inquired hopefully.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the kid gave Wataru the once over before answering. “For awhile,” he confirmed with a frown. “Why?”

Wataru wasn’t going to be breathing a sigh of relief just yet. Just because this kid looked like the one he was looking for did not mean he was and just because the kid claimed to have been at the Nest was no proof either. “You sang right? ‘Fool’ by Trance.”

“I did,” the kid confirmed once again, eying him suspiciously.

Grinning, Wataru nodded, barely suppressing the urge to punch the air. This was the kid then. It was confirmed. “I was there. You were really good.”

A grin bloomed across the kid‘s face. His arms dropped to his sides. “Thank you!”

“You have to be the only one who’s ever done that song justice,” Wataru said truthfully. And that was taking into account Gloria Lee who remade the song several years back. The only good to come out of that was the royalty Trance received.

The praise had the kid blushing. “Thanks.”

“You a Trance fan?” Wataru inquired curiously.

The kid shrugged. “Not really. I mean there are a couple songs I like and that was one of them. My father is the real fan.” He rolled his eyes and then dropped his voice to a whisper. “He’s a little obsessed.”

Wataru chuckled. “Oh, I’m Wataru by the way.”

“Shuichi.”

They shook hands.

“Shuichi Uesugi? Nice to meet you.”

For some reason that Wataru could not figure out, Shuichi blushed. “You too,” Shuichi returned. “And it’s actually Shindou,” he corrected. “Uesugi is my husband’s name.”

“Oh! My apologies.”

Why would Shuichi put his name down on the karaoke list as “Uesugi” if it was Shindou? The answer came to him swiftly. Shuichi hadn’t wanted anybody to know who he was while out on the town last night; the kid had been incognito. There were many who could understand that, he included, but who exactly was this kid that he would need to pretend to be someone other than himself while out in public?

And what was it the manager said? Something about Shuichi having been out of town until recently?

Wataru studied the kid before him anew. Shuichi did not look familiar in the least. Though, as he quickly found himself lost within the depths of those purple eyes, he realized that there was something familiar about those eyes--eyes that resembled an amethyst in color, which was his mother’s favorite color.

Uesugi. Shindou.

When the answer hit him, Wataru felt like an idiot.

“You’re not Shuichi Shindou from Bad Luck are you?” Bad Luck was his daughter’s favorite band. Or they used to be. She claimed they sucked now that they had a new lead singer.

Shuichi’s face fell. The light faded from his eyes. “No. Not anymore,” Shuichi said with a sad shake of his head. With that, he turned and started to walk away.

Wataru’s heart was hammering. He didn’t know why, but he could not allow this man to walk away from him. Before he had time to think about it, Wataru strode forward and clasped a hand to Shuichi’s shoulder. “Wait,” he told the younger man.

Shuichi glanced at the hand on his shoulder with a raised eyebrow until Wataru dropped it with an apology.

“Could I buy you a cup of coffee or something?”

Shuichi turned around to face Wataru. A smile played with his lips. “You know I’m married, right?” He held up his hand, displaying his engagement and wedding bands, wiggling his ring finger for emphasis.

It took several long seconds for what Shuichi was implying to hit him. When it did, Wataru threw his head back and laughed. He shook his head. “I actually have something I would like to speak with you about if you don’t mind,” he clarified. “A proposition.”

Shuichi re-crossed his arms over his chest and glanced once again at Wataru suspiciously. “What kind of proposition?”

“We’re in need of a singer.”

It was Shuichi’s turned to blink in stupefied silence. It took several tries before Shuichi was able to say, “We who?” He looked at the man before him through narrowed eyes. “Who exactly are you?”

“I’m Wataru. Wataru Katsurayama from Trance.”

Wataru watched comprehension hit Shuichi. It was a mixture of awe and wonder and confusion. Wataru chuckled silently. He bet Shuichi never expected this when he woke that morning.

 

* * *

 

**That Night - Shindou-Uesugi Residence**

Sitting at the foot of the bed in the master suite, Shuichi pulled his legs up onto the bed and folded them beneath him. He plucked at a loose thread on the quilt.

“It’s up to you,” Eiri was saying as he stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of plaid pajamas bottoms. His wet hair was plastered to his head from the quick shower he’d just indulged in. A towel was draped around his shoulders.

With a deep sigh, Shuichi fell over backwards, bouncing lightly on the mattress.

That didn’t exactly help and he told Eiri as much.

“It’s your decision,” Eiri said as he tossed the towel onto the back of the chair in the corner.

Shuichi propped himself up on his elbows and watched his husband--that still made him giggle and blush like a schoolgirl--throw back the covers and crawl into bed. “I know, but…” He wanted Eiri’s opinion.

Eiri pulled his pillows up against the headboard and laid back. “Is this something you want to do?”

Biting his lip, Shuichi sat up and unfolded his legs. Turning around, he crawled up the bed where he proceeded to snuggle against Eiri’s side. He wrapped an arm around Eiri’s waist and entwined their legs together. “Maybe,” he mumbled against Eiri’s naked chest.

Eiri rolled his eyes. Draping an arm around Shuichi, he hugged the small man tightly against his side. “Then do it,” he whispered before he kissed the top of Shuichi’s head.

Shuichi titled his head back. “You think?”

Eiri shrugged. “Why not?”

Smiling, Shuichi snuggled back down.

“If anything,” Eiri continued, “you’ll be able to shove their misfortune in their faces.”

There was no need to explain about whom Eiri was referring.

“Eiri,” Shuichi scolded with a playful slap. He couldn’t stop from laughing despite the harsh words. It would be the sweetest revenge to see the looks on his former band mates’ faces when they found out what had become of him in the year since they fired him.

Eiri chuckled.

 

* * *

 

**The Next Afternoon - NG Productions Executive Offices**

Tohma sat back with his fingers laced together before his mouth. He studied the men before him.

Wataru Katsurayama. Akira Shirodaira. Ken Honami. Isac Yamada. Shuichi Shindou.

Which one of these is not like the others, he thought in amusement.

Tohma wondered what would outrage the public more: the fact that when Trance was at the peak of their career, Shuichi Shindou hadn’t even been a gleam in his parents’ eye or that “Rage Beat” was a far cry from “Anxiety”. It was like those kids from Hanson releasing Alice Cooper’s “Billion Dollar Babies” as their follow-up after the success of “MmmBop”.

Talk about oil and water.

Tohma lowered his hands to his lap. “Are you sure about this?” he asked Shuichi.

Tohma himself was a little apprehensive. That was not, by any means, a slight on Shuichi’s part. There was no doubt that Shuichi had the talent--and the vocal range-- to be great in any music genre. The problem lay with the fans. Some were going to protest Shuichi’s addition to the classic rock band merely on principle.

Uncertainty flashed in Shuichi’s eyes and then was gone. It was so quick that Tohma wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen it or if he’d only imagined seeing it.

Resolve hardened Shuichi’s features. He nodded. “Yes, sir. I’d like to try.”

Wataru, who was standing next to Shuichi, beamed and clapped the younger man on the shoulder.

“Alright.” Tohma stood up and rounded the desk. “I wish you the best of luck,” he said, holding out a hand to Shuichi. “It’s not going to be easy.”

Grinning, Shuichi clasped Tohma’s hand. “I know.”

Tohma chuckled. This was why he’d signed Shuichi to his label in the first place. He liked the attitude. “Welcome to NG Productions once again Shuichi Shindou. Trance is lucky to have acquired you.”

“Thank you sir.”

 

* * *

 

**Six Months Later - Early Evening, July 8th - Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Tokyo**

As he passed through the living room on his way from his office to the kitchen to start on dinner, the baka was due home in half an hour if rehearsal ended on time, Eiri turned on the television.

“-Jun, as you’ll recall, Mr. Yutaro Murakami-”

He knew that name. Eiri came to an immediate halt. He spun around to face the television.

“-a virtual unknown from Shikoku-”

Eiri snorted. “And Yoh Moriyama’s cousin.” Technically, Yutaro was the son of Yoh’s mother’s cousin, or something like that.

The day after Shuichi was fired, Yutaro was announced as his replacement. The guy looked like a reject from Marilyn Manson‘s band.

“-was hired to replace Shuichi Shindou after the singer was fired quite unexpectedly a year ago today.”

Eiri snarled at the memory. Up until that very moment, he’d done a good job of pretending that today wasn’t the anniversary of when Shuichi’s musical world had come crumbling down around him.

“The band’s first album with their new lead singer--aptly entitled _Breakaway_ \--that was released in August of last year, was a dismal failure.”

Eiri chuckled. Served them right.

What made the album such a flop wasn’t the music. Thanks to the genius of Suguru Fujisaki, none of the tracks were recycled from previous albums in a failed attempt at recapturing what made them such a success in the first place. The album wasn’t as drastically different from previous material as to alienate fans.

The lyrics weren’t what made the album an epic failure either. Most of the songs had been written, or at least co-written, by Shuichi.

Nobody had been as surprised about that more than Shuichi had been. Apparently, since Tohma had absolutely refused to extend the deadline for the album’s completion, the new Bad Luck had been forced to use the songs composed by their disbarred singer. Evidently, Yoh had been none too pleased about that. Here he had instigated a coup d’état only for the leader of the old regime to be kept on as a creative consultant.

Eiri thought the whole affair was hilarious.

Shuichi, on the other hand, was still not sure how to feel.

Yes, he was given credit as the lyricist and thus received a royalty--as he still did from sales of their previous albums, the _Live from Zepp Tokyo_ concert DVD from three years ago, the _Gravity World Tour_ DVD and the acoustic album _Reboot_ released two year ago (which all sold more in the past year than _Breakaway_ had).

Yes, Shuichi loved the irony--the slap in the face this was to his old band mates. The anger that was still simmering below the surface at the treachery felt vindicated by it.

But despite it no longer being his problem, Shuichi couldn’t help but be disappointed that Breakaway hadn’t done so well. He knew it wasn’t because of anything he did. The fans said it themselves. They praised the musical arrangements and the lyrics. What they hadn’t bought was the new singer. According to more than one fan, Yutaro Murakami, “sounds as if he was gurgling nails”.

“To date, a mere one-hundred-thousand copies were sold worldwide,” the reporter for the entertainment news program was saying.

Eiri snorted. Even that was being generous. One-hundred copies he could believe. A thousand was stretching it. One-hundred thousand? Maybe in Yoh Moriyama’s dreams.

“Last night, Bad Luck was scheduled to make an appearance on _Toru Maki_.”

As in the Late Late Late Night Show? Eiri chuckled. It was practically a cackle.

“They had been scheduled to perform their new single ‘Time’ from their up and coming album, Changes, but their appearance was cancelled minutes before the taping was set to begin. They claimed Yutaro Murakami was suffering from a sore throat.”

“Bullshit,” Eiri sneered.

That was not to say that it was not a valid excuse. It was, or could be. While on tour, Shuichi often suffered from sore throats, even severe exhaustion by the end. Several times, he’d actually lost his voice. Still, he’d press on. Shuichi could be on his deathbed and he’d still make the scheduled appearance. In the case of one Yutaro Murakami, the excuse was nothing short of a load of bull crap.

“But he was spotted an hour later at a bar not far from the studio with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.”

Typical. That was another reason why Bad Luck has been slowly spiraling out of existence. Their new singer was an idiot. Some would call him a Diva or Prima Donna, but even Divas and Prima Donnas knew not to make such elementary mistakes as Yutaro Murakami made on a daily basis.

“There are now rumors circulating that Bad Luck is considering letting Mr. Murakami go. Some are speculating that Shuichi Shindou will be asked to return.”

Eiri laughed until he was crying. And he thought Sad Fuck making an appearance on a late night talk show that only insomniacs watched was perfect.

He couldn’t wait to tell Shuichi.

 

* * *

 

**Tokyo International Forum**

Sweat plastered his shoulder length jet-black hair to his face. His muscles ached with fatigue. His breath came out in huffing pants, his chest rising and falling sporadically, but his amethyst eyes were alive for the first time in months.

Shuichi took a long gulp of water, his booted feet taping along with the music that flooded the forum.

It was sounding good.

He started at the tap on his shoulder. It was Maya, his new manager’s assistant.

“Phone call,” she shouted in his ear above the music.

Shuichi nodded to indicate he heard and followed her out of the auditorium into the atrium. Once the doors shut behind him, the noise level dropped dramatically.

Someone handed him his cellphone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Baby,” greeted the suggestive voice.

Shuichi’s fame went aflame. “Eiri!” It seemed like they hadn’t seen one another in forever, even though it had only been that morning. Shuichi excused himself from the mob of roadies and technical crew and whatnot, made his way outside, and slid into the backseat of the limo in which he had arrived.

“How’s rehearsal going?” Eiri inquired.

“Great,” Shuichi exclaimed enthusiastically.

He was more exhausted then he could ever remember being. There was so much sweat covering him that he felt as if he’d stepped into the shower with his clothes on. His voice was hoarse and his throat ached. Performing with the guys was intense and challenging, but satisfying in a way he had never felt before.

Though, he was still a little apprehensive.

What if they didn’t like him? What if he was a total failure? What if-?

“You’ll do fine,” Eiri said as if he’d been eavesdropping on Shuichi’s thoughts.

Shuichi bit his lip. He wished he could be as confident.

Taking over as lead singer for a band that had been around for longer than he had been alive was not an easy or painless transition. Shuichi found he was constantly wondering what Wataru had been thinking when he approached him or what he’d been thinking when he agreed to the proposition. Why him? What made him so special? There had to be hundreds of others out there better qualified. What if Wataru woke up one day and realized he’d made a mistake?

“Trust me,” Eiri said breaking into his thoughts.

Shuichi broke into a grin. “I do.” There was never any doubt about that.

“Then trust me now.”

Shuichi could do that.

There was knock on the window, startling Shuichi. He rolled down the window. It was Maya again.

“They want you inside,” she said.

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

Maya nodded and went back inside the Forum.

“I may be a bit late,” Shuichi told his husband as he rolled the window back up.

“Sure. I’ll keep dinner warm.”

“Thanks.”

“By the way,” Eiri said as Shuichi stepped out of the limo. “There was just something on the news you might be interested in.”

Shuichi cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” His lips twitched just contemplating the possibilities.

“Bad Luck just fired their singer and their bassist quit.”

Shuichi could not help it, standing there in front of the International Forum with dozens of people milling around, he burst out laughing. There was a stitch in his side and he was finding it difficult to breathe, but just the thought of Bad Luck self-destructing after firing him was sweeter than candy.

Oh sweet revenge, Shuichi thought.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - En Route**

So things had not worked out. Big deal. It wasn’t as if it was the end of the world. He had accomplished what he’d set out to do: destroy Bad Luck.

Yoh snickered over Bad Company playing over the car speakers.

Bad Luck deserved everything that happened to them.

“So this weekend,” the DJ said as the song ended, “Trance, believe it or not, is finally being inducted into the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame.”

“‘Bout time,” Yoh commented as he slowed at a red light.

“About damn time too,” the DJ continued. “They should’ve been in there years ago. I never understood why all these little upstart talentless bands were being ushered in and the legends were being tossed by the wayside as if they were nothing but dog crap.”

Yoh could not agree more. Trance was a legendary band overlooked for most of their career. It was about time they received their due.

“From what I’ve heard, they’ll be performing ‘Perfect’,” the DJ was saying.

Yoh nodded. ‘Perfect’ was Trance’s biggest hit, though, in his opinion, it wasn’t their best song.

“And a new song believe it or not.”

Yoh’s eyes went wide. “No. Shit,” he breathed. Grinning, he slammed a fist against the steering wheel several times. “Awesome!”

“It’s been--what?--twenty years or something since the guys put out anything new? To have something new from the guys is just great. I’m not sure if it’s unreleased material or actual new stuff though.

“To hear something new from Satoru would be awesome. He was a legend from the moment their first song came out. His sudden passing back in ’85 was a shock. I know it was to me. I remember he was in the studio like a week before. We spoke about their new single, ’Save Me’, and what the future held for them. He seemed fine. Healthy. Happy. Just married. Had a son on the way. Plans for a tour were in the works and then a week later it was like BOOM.”

Yoh nodded.

The light turned green.

“When the guys were contacted several months back about being inducted, I guess they were on the fence about whether to perform or not. If they did perform, should they perform without a singer and instead use prerecorded vocals? Maybe leave the spot empty as a tribute to Satoru? Or should they scout for a new singer? Maybe ask Eiji to fill in? I don’t know if you know him, but Eiji Gokurakuin is Satoru’s younger brother. I heard him sing with his own band years ago and I’m telling you, he sounds shockingly like Satoru. I-I-I had chills. No fooling.

“Anyway, Trance was also contemplating not performing at all--maybe allowing other bands to perform their stuff instead.

“Then not long after they received news about being inducted, they happened upon some guy in a bar that just happened to be singing one of their songs and this guy just blew them away and they hired him on the spot. I don’t know. Guess we‘ll see if this guy is any good or just a putz.”

Yoh snorted.

“So in honor of Trance being inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, here is ‘Save Me’ from their 1984 album _Save Me_ and remember to watch the Induction Ceremony next Friday at eight on the Music Channel.”

Grinning like a madman, Yoh blasted the volume as his favorite Trance song came on.

Today was definitely a good day.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - NG Productions Studio 15**

“Now what?”

For the past twenty-four hours, the remaining members of Bad Luck had been asking themselves that same question. None of them had the answer.

The ensuing silence was the only answer Yuta knew he was likely to get.

“We screwed up big time, didn’t we?”

“Yup,” was Suguru’s answer.

“That we did,” agreed Hiro.

With a colorful string of, not to mention creative, swear words, Yuta raked his fingers through his long blond tresses. “Bet Yoh’s laughing his ass off right about now,” he muttered, leaning forward over his knees.

With his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his left leg crossed over the right knee, Suguru snorted. His foot was bouncing impatiently in the air. His gaze was towards the far corner. “Along with all of Japan.” He sounded bitter.

The others winced.

His gaze riveted on his hands clasped between his knees, Hiro spoke into the silence that had fallen. “Maybe…”

Suguru and Yuta swung sharply towards the guitarist.

“Maybe?” Suguru prodded.

Hiro lifted his gaze. “Maybe I can talk to Shuichi.”

Suguru and Yuta exchanged a glance. It was part unease, part hopeful.

“You think he’d come back?” Suguru demanded. He’d dropped his arms and was leaning forward. There was fire in his eyes.

Yuta bit his lip. He wasn’t too sure.

“There’s no harm in trying,” Hiro said.

 

* * *

 

**Short Time Later - NG Productions Executive Offices**

“That’s bound to be expected,” Tohma was saying into the phone as he reclined in his chair behind his desk. He spun the chair around and gazed out the window at the hustle and bustle that was Tokyo. “I’d be worried if he wasn’t.”

“Yeah,” came the sigh. “Have you heard them yet?”

“I have actually. I went down to the Forum the other day. You know they have the entire place on lock down? You’d think the Prime Minister, the Royal family, or some foreign dignitary had rented the place for the day. It was like trying to break into the Palace. I almost wasn’t allowed in.”

There was a faked gasp of dismay. “Those bastards.”

Tohma‘s lips twitched. “Glad I could amuse you Eiri.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“So?” Tohma asked with a chuckle. “What about you? Heard him yet?”

There was a snort in his ear. “You kidding? Shuichi’s nervous enough as it is. If he knew I was there, there’s no telling what would happen. He’d end up having a complete meltdown.”

With a nod, Tohma hummed lightly. “By the way, has Shuichi told Suguru, Mr. Nakano and Mr. Hirasawa yet?” He turned from the breathtaking sight the window offered.

“Course not,” Eiri answered in a ‘duh’ tone of voice. “I told him he should. You know, rub it in their faces, but Shuichi’s adamant. He won’t say anything before it’s time.”

Tohma smirked.

Eiri still hasn’t forgiven Bad Luck for what they did to Shuichi--not that Tohma could blame his brother-in-law. Some grudges could not be so easily forgiven. Sometimes there was no turning the other cheek. Despite the good relations between the two, there were several past incidents for which he hadn’t been able to bring himself to forgive Shuichi.

“So he has no desire to tell them that he was hired as the new lead singer for a legendary rock band?” Tohma reiterated.

“Nope.”

Tohma snickered. First, it was Bad Luck saying they did not need Shuichi. Now it was Shuichi proclaiming not to need them.

Perfect.

 

* * *

 

**That Night - Shindou-Uesugi Residence - Tokyo**

It’d been a year since Hiro laid eyes on his best friend. He didn’t even know if he had the right to call them friends anymore let alone best friends. For the past twelve months, he hadn’t been a best anything, especially to Shuichi.

As Hiro rode the elevator up to Shuichi’s floor, his stomach cramped with nervousness.

He still had no idea how Yoh managed to do what he did--talk all three of them into firing Shuichi. Their fans and critics alike had known that without Shuichi there was no Bad Luck. Why hadn’t they? While he was not sure about Suguru and Yuta, Hiro could remember the doubts that had plagued him when Yoh brought up cutting Shuichi loose. Why had he ignored them? Why had he allowed Yoh to trample over them as if they weren’t worthy of consideration? Why had he believed Yoh’s lies? It was obvious what Yoh had been planning--probably long before he was even an official member of Bad Luck--in hindsight.

His grip on the rail tightened as the elevator jolted to a stop. With his head bowed and his eyes squeezed shut, he breathed deeply to calm the nerves. He felt sick.

There was a ping and the doors slid open.

Taking a deep breath, Hiro forced himself to let go of the rail and step out of the elevator. The doors slid closed behind him. He had nowhere to go but forward.

One foot in front of the other. It was more an effort than he thought it would be.

Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea…

It was too late now.

Summoning what little courage he had, Hiro strode confidently down the hall--or as confidently as he could--towards Shuichi’s place.

While he was hoping that Shuichi was home, he was also praying that Shuichi wasn’t at home. Was that cowardly? Probably.

Shuichi has been spotted out in public from time to time over the last six months, but there was no news about what his onetime friend was up to now. Was he singing again? Maybe acting? There were speculations certainly, but nothing official.

Finally, he stood before Shuichi’s door. Taking another deep breath, Hiro raised his hand and knocked.

 

* * *

 

At one point, Shuichi would have assumed any unexpected guest was Eiri--as long as Eiri wasn’t at home at the time of the unexpected guest’s arrival--but that time was long gone. Now he just found unexpected guests a nuisance, especially since he was tired from rehearsal. All he wanted was to fall face first into bed and stay there for a week.

He wished Eiri were here to deal with this.

Eiri had gone to their favorite bakery to buy something for dessert. No amount of prodding on Shuichi’s part had Eiri confessing what he was going to buy. Eiri said it would be a surprise. Shuichi just thought Eiri wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for and was going to wait and see what they had at the bakery before deciding.

Shuichi crossed to the front door, wishing he could just ignore whoever it was at the door.

He checked the peephole and cursed, wishing more than ever that he had ignored the door.

Faking indifference, Shuichi unlocked the door and threw it open. “What the hell do you want?” he snapped out angrily. There goes that indifference, he thought.

Hiro smiled weakly. “Hey Shu.”

“What do you want?” Shuichi asked again. He was tired and cranky and just the sight of his once best friend was stirring the ire that he had been trying so hard to put behind him. That damned smile was not helping either. His hands itched to pummel Hiro’s face in just as he did back in high school. Shuichi crossed his arms to keep the temptation at bay.

Hiro winced.

Shuichi smirked before falling. “Well?” he demanded. His feet were killing him. His throat ached--it felt as if he’d swallowed shards of glass--and the temptation to lash out wasn’t abating. If anything, it was growing worse the longer he and Hiro stood face to face for the first time in a year.

Looking nervous, as if he sensed to dark aura that now surrounded Shuichi, Hiro stammered, “I, uh, came to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Shuichi bit with a scowl, “and you have nothing to say that I would want to hear.” He dropped his arms and stepping back, started to swing the door shut, but Hiro’s hand shot out at the last second. Shuichi threw back open the door and glared at the guitarist and his damned hand.

He had to give Hiro credit for his determination for not backing down even though the chips were down and the odds were not looking too good, but there came a point when one’s resolve was just pathetic. Hiro was fast reaching that point.

“Please, Shuichi. I came to apologize.” Hiro’s face was twisted in desperation.

Shuichi laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound.

In the year since he was unceremoniously let go, his old band had completely ignored his existence. Not once had they tried to contact him to try to explain the reasoning behind their decision. Not once had they asked for his side. It was only now when the guy who instigated this whole affair quit, now that they let their new singer go because he just wasn’t working out, now when they realize just how much they needed him do they come crawling back begging for his forgiveness.

“Go ahead,” he offered with a carefree tone. “Go ahead and apologize.” Halfway through the sentence his tone changed. The smile faded. His features twisted. “See how far that gets you.”

Did they actually expect all to be forgiven with that one phrase? That if they apologized earnestly, it would lessen the sting of betrayal he still felt a year later? That they could all be one happy family once more?

“…Shu-”

“You lost the privilege to call me that,” Shuichi hissed.

Hiro grimaced as if he’d been physically struck. This wasn’t the Shuichi Shindou he used to know. This wasn’t his best friend--the guy he’d stumbled upon in one of the band rooms by chance one day back in middle school, the scrawny kid who played as if he were the next Mozart and sang as if he were a young Japanese Andrea Bocelli. This wasn’t the guy for whom he’d blown the college entrance exams. This wasn’t the guy he once swore to protect and standby no matter what. No, this was someone completely different.

Hiro wanted to say something--anything, but merely nodded.

Shuichi sniffed at his ex-friend’s audacity and started to turn away, but stopped and called out to Hiro.

Hopeful, Hiro looked back at Shuichi. Seeing the rage flashing across Shuichi’s face had Hiro wincing.

“What you did…I’d rather be--go through what I was forced to endure with Taki one-hundred times over than have to relive what you did to me even once.”

A stab of guilt pierced Hiro’s heart at the raw pain in his once best friend’s eyes. “Shu I….I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“Sometimes Hiro, sorry isn’t enough,” was all Shuichi said before the door was slammed in Hiro’s face.

 

* * *

 

To Hiro, the trek back down to his motorcycle felt twice as long as it had when he’d made the trek in the past.

As he strode across the empty lobby to the glass doors that opened out onto the parking lot, he wondered what they were going to do now.

Was Bad Luck history? Was this the end of them? Or could they possibly find another singer? Sure Yutaro hadn’t worked out, but with Shuichi determined not to return to Bad Luck--who could blame him?--then there were really only two options left for them: call it quits or try to find a singer who would work. His mother would definitely use this uncertain time as an opportunity to get him to reapply to medical school.

As if that would happen.

He pushed through the doors and shivered violently as the unseasonably cool winter air slapped him. Pulling on his gloves and pulling the collar of his jacket closed, he made a beeline to his bike, promising to look into buying a car. A motorcycle was definitely not an option in this type of weather.

The sleek Harley-Davidson gleamed under the streetlight.

Standing besides his motorcycle with his helmet in his hands, Hiro glanced back at Shuichi’s building. He tipped his head back and searched the forty-plus story building for his ex-friend’s condominium. It was easy to pick out. It the one at the top with the wraparound balcony.

Guilt once again sliced through his heart.

They’d really screwed up hadn’t they?

 

* * *

 

Eiri straightened as the revving of a motorcycle echoed through the deserted parking lot. He glanced over the hood of the car and spotted the familiar bike.

Nakano.

He scowled. A light growl trickled from his lips. His grip on the white bakery box tightened as anger flashed through him.

Bastard!

What was he doing here? He had a lot of nerve showing his face around here!

The man that had once upon a time been his husband’s best friend turned his head and seemed to look directly at him. Eiri stood his ground and glared right back. What he wouldn‘t give to leap over his Mercedes and give Hiro a piece of his mind. When he was finished with him, Hiro’s own parents wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Of course, the one course of action he longed for was the one course of action he couldn’t do. Shuichi had forbidden it.

Even though it appeared as if Hiro was looking at him, Eiri knew that even if Hiro knew someone was there with him in the parking lot, he wouldn’t know who was there as Eiri was standing in the shadows.

Hiro tipped his head back. The light from the streetlamp shinned down onto the guitarist’s newly exposed face. Devastation twisted the other man’s features. The sight had Eiri’s fury melting away. Instead, he found himself chuckling.

Guess things didn’t go too well, Eiri thought in amusement as he watched the motorcycle drive off moments later.

Next week couldn’t come soon enough.

 

* * *

 

**The Next Night - Tokyo International Forum**

The whole scene was nostalgic for Shuichi.

Backstage at the Forum for the taping of the Japanese Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony was total chaos. There were fifty million people coming and going--at least, it looked like it to Shuichi. From the crew to the producers, the director, roadies for the bands being inducted who were responsible for setting up and taking down the bands’ instruments, presenters and the bands themselves. Most were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. It seemed as if they didn’t know whether they were coming or going.

There was the occasional person who seemed to be immune to the anarchy. Shuichi envied those people. He himself felt sick to his stomach.

Everybody who’d been at rehearsal had assured him that he was going to be fine. That his addition to an already established band was nothing like Yutaro’s had been to Bad Luck.

_“They’re going to love you!”_

Shuichi was doubtful. Of course, he wanted them to love him. He would prefer not to be booed off the stage. He didn’t want to ruin Trance’s reputation, but it could happen. There were no guarantees in this business. He knew that very well. Being kicked out of the band he formed back in middle school was proof of that.

“You’re going to do fine,” whispered a husky voice in his ear.

Shuichi jumped but relaxed the next second into the arms that wound around his waist.

“Hear me?”

Shuichi nodded.

“Good.” A kiss was pressed against his temple. “Break a leg. I’m going to go take my seat.”

Shuichi could do nothing but nod once more.

The arms let him go.

Panicked, Shuichi twirled around and grabbed them. “Eiri,” he called over the frantic thudding of his heart.

Swallowing back a sigh, Eiri turned back to Shuichi with a smile. He cupped Shuichi’s cheek. “I love you,” he told the younger man. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Shuichi bit his lip.

Eiri used his thumb to pry Shuichi’s lip free and then pressed their lips together.

“Places Trance,” someone called. “You go on in five!”

Reluctantly, Eiri pulled back.

Shuichi suddenly wished they hadn’t eaten before coming.

Eiri turned Shuichi around and pushed him forward.

“Ready Shindou?” Isac called out as he passed the younger man.

Shuichi swallowed and nodded. He glanced over his shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Eiri.

Eiri caught his eye, smiled and nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Shuichi walked silently out onto the darkened stage with the aid of a flashlight from one of the crew as the thousands of people packing the Forum watched the brief summation of Trance’s history.

Here goes nothing, he thought.

 

* * *

 

**A Week Later - Evening, July 15th - Nakano Residence**

If this wasn’t depressing, he wasn’t sure what was. Being stuck home alone on a Friday night was pretty sad, Hiro thought as he stood at the counter in his kitchenette with an opened beer in one hand and a bowl of popcorn fresh out of the microwave in the other.

He took a swig of beer and then made his way to his living room/bedroom (or was that bedroom/living room?) just as applause emanated from the television.

Six steps. That was how far it was from the kitchen to his combination living room/bedroom. He really had to look into getting a bigger place.

Guess the stupid montage’s finished, he decided as he rounded the bed. Sitting at the foot of the bed, he placed his bowl of popcorn in his lap and eyed the ten-year-old television sitting on the dresser opposite the bed. He took another sip of beer as the camera zoomed in on a woman at the podium.

She didn’t look familiar.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the woman in her long black sequin dress, “please welcome the 2011 inductees Trance!”

The camera image switched to a panning sweep of the audience as they surged to their feet, then focused back on the stage as the curtain fell away. As the iconic opening cords of “Perfect”--the band’s biggest hit to date--thrummed through the Forum and into the small studio apartment he been renting for the past decade, the image switched to a closer view of the band.

The mysterious new lead singer the classic rock band found at a local karaoke bar stepped into the spotlight as colored lights flashed like fireworks around the stage. The enthusiastic applause that had begun to die down as the gathered audience began to rock out to the song took flight once more.

Hiro chocked on the mouthful of beer. Droplets landed on the television. The spastic movement upset his bowl of untouched popcorn. The bowl tumbled from his lap onto the floor with a loud clatter. Buttered popped kernels spilled everywhere.

The woman who introduced the classic rock band may not have looked familiar, but the new lead singer of said classic rock band did.

His eyes watering and his face beet red from half-coughing and half-chocking on his beer, Hiro spluttered, “Shuichi.”

Shocked, surprised, dazed, stunned…Hiro felt all that and more.

Not sure when he’d stood up, he fell weakly back down onto the foot of the bed as the man that had been his best friend at one point strutted across the stage with more confidence than he’d ever had as part of Bad Luck. There was no doubt or uncertainty there as there always had been when Shuichi took the stage with Bad Luck.

More than just Shuichi’s appearance had changed in the year since he was let go from the pop band he founded.

It was an odd mixture of emotions Hiro was feeling.

“…Listen to the rain/Listen to the rain…” Shuichi was singing.

Hiro was happy for his friend. If the reaction of the audience was any indication, it appeared as if Shuichi’s future with Trance was assured.

He was also jealous. Despite the name Shuichi had chosen for their band, good luck seemed to follow on Shuichi’s heels everywhere he went.

Hiro glanced at his cellphone sitting on the dresser besides the television as it started to ring.

And it begins, he sighed.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - NG Productions Studio 25**

“How about this?” Suguru suggested. He swiveled his body around on the bench--turning back towards the piano. Stretching his fingers out, giving them a little wiggle, he let his fingers hover above the ivory keys. Then taking a deep breath, he watched almost hypnotized as those nimble fingers flew over the ivory keys without much input from him. The tune that rose was a sensual lullaby.

From behind his drums, Yuta nodded. He felt his body swaying.

Reaching behind him, he exchanged his drumsticks for ones that resembled handheld mini brooms. He swept them over the drums, adding to the sensual beat provided by Suguru.

Neither was sure where this was going; was this pseudo-jazz sound in Bad Luck’s future? Were they just messing around? Or was it something else? Either way, they were looking forward to finding out.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - Moriyama Residence**

Yoh jumped out of the brown leather recliner in anger and tossed the flattened beer can across the room at the television. Droplets of the amber liquid within arched through the air. The beer can bounced off the television screen and landed with a muffled clatter on the floor. A puddle of beer started to form on the newly refinished wood floor.

Seething in anger, he growled, “Shindou.”

How dare he do this to him?!

Sneaky. Conniving. Bastard!

Shuichi was supposed to fade away into nothingness, not reinvent himself by joining another band! Shuichi’s success was supposed to have faded with Bad Luck. This was…This was…

“Son of a bitch!”

Why did things never go as planned where plotting against Shuichi Shindou was concerned?

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - Murakami Residence**

With a plain white towel draped around his shoulders to protect his new silk shirt, Yutaro walked out of the bathroom combing gel through his hair. Once the image on the television came into view, he froze. Dark eyes blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Was that…? Yes. Yes it was. A chuckle worked its way up his throat and into the otherwise silent apartment.

“Didn’t plan for this did ya Cousin?”

Yutaro laughed his way back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - Seguchi Residence**

“Is that…?”

“It is,” Tohma answered from besides his wife in the TV room.

“Wow,” Mika breathed. She clasped her hands under her chin and leaned forward. “He’s good.” The young man strutting across that stage rocking the Forum was nothing like the Shuichi Shindou she used to know. His look, his sound--it was different; _he_ was different. There was a sureness that had never been there before. For the first time, Shuichi appeared to be comfortable in his own skin.

Tohma could only nod in agreement. Who knew being fired from his own band would turn out to be a good thing?

He wondered how dear ol’ Yoh was taking the sudden turn of events. He chuckled softly.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - Sakuma Residence**

Ryuichi was giddy with excitement.

He and Kuma hadn’t seen much of their friend lately. Tohma had assured them that Shuichi was fine, but busy. First Shuichi got married to mean old Mr. Yuki--who apparently wasn’t so mean anymore (which was a good thing because Kumagoro wasn’t passed marching over there and showing that stupid blond author what was what)--and then Shuichi went on his honeymoon; he was gone for a very long time. When Shuichi finally returned home, he was snatched away again. This time in order to join a new band.

Shuichi had always been adamant that if it wasn’t for Bad Luck with Hiro at his side, then he wouldn’t be able to sing, but here he was singing--sparkling--without either.

“I knew you could do it Shuichi,” Ryuichi whispered to his friend on the television.

Kuma couldn’t agree more.

 

* * *

 

**Same Time - Shindou-Uesugi Residence**

Wrapped up in Eiri’s arms watching as the sun slid behind the horizon was where Shuichi enjoyed being the most. Tipping his head back, he peered at his husband and whispered, “I love you.”

With those three simple words, Eiri’s expression softened. He glanced down at his husband and smiled. “Love you too,” he whispered back.

Sighing, a smile on his lips, Shuichi cuddled back within Eiri’s arms, content for the first time in a long time.

 

**…The End**

 


End file.
